They were so busy they only had time to toss me a nod, and I sat down at my end of the table and Fritz brought me a plate.
She had on my dressing gown, with the sleeves rolled up, and a pair of Fritz’s slippers with her ankles bare.
Wolfe was reciting Hungarian poetry to her, a line at a time, and she was repeating it after him; and he was trying not to look pleased as she leaned forward with an ear cocked at him and her eyes on his lips, asking as if she were really interested,
“Say it again, slower, please do.”
The yellow dressing gown wasn’t bad on her, at that, but I was hungry.
I waded through a plate of minced lamb kidneys with green peppers, and a dish of endive, and as Fritz took the plate away and presented me with a hunk of pie I observed to the room,
“If you’ve finished with your coffee and have any time to spare, you might like to hear a report.”
Wolfe sighed.
“I suppose so.
But not here.” He arose. “If Fritz could serve your coffee in the office?
And you. Miss Fox … upstairs.”
“Oh, my lord.
Must I dig in again?”
“Of course.
Until dinner time.”
He bowed, meaning that he inclined his head two inches, and went off.
Clara Fox got up and walked to my end.
“I’ll pour your coffee.”
“All right.
Black and two lumps.”
She screwed up her face.
“With all this grand cream here?
Very well.
You know, Mr. Goodwin, this house represents the most insolent denial of female rights the mind of man has ever conceived.
No woman in it from top to bottom, but the routine is faultless, the food is perfect, and the sweeping and dusting are impeccable.
I have never been a housewife, but I can’t overlook this challenge.
I’m going to marry Mr. Wolfe, and I know a girl that will be just the thing for you, and of course our friends will be in and out a good deal.
This place needs some upsetting.”
I looked at her.
The hem of the yellow gown was trailing the floor.
The throat of it was spreading open, and it was interesting to see where her shoulders came to and how the yellow made her hair look.
I said,
“You’ve already upset enough.
Go upstairs and behave yourself.
Wolfe has three wives and nineteen children in Turkey.”
“I don’t believe it.
He has always hated women until he saw how nicely they pack in osmundine.”
I grinned at her and got up.
“Thanks for the coffee.
I may be able to persuade Wolfe to let you come down for dinner.”
I balanced my cup and saucer in one hand while I opened the door for her with the other, and then went to the office and got seated at my desk and started to sip.
Wolfe had his middle drawer open and was counting bottle caps to see how much beer he had drunk since Sunday morning.
Finally he closed it and grunted.
“I don’t believe it for a moment.
Bah.
Statistics are notoriously unreliable. I had a very satisfactory talk with Mr. Lindquist over long distance, and I am more than ever anxious for a few words with Mr. Walsh.
Did you see him?”
“No.
I declined the invitation.”
I reported my session with Cramer in detail, mostly verbatim, which was the way he liked it.